


Where do you think you're going?

by FuryBeam136



Series: Whumptober 2020 but bad [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Whumptober, Whumptober 2020, more melum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:35:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27005935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuryBeam136/pseuds/FuryBeam136
Summary: Day 5 of whumptober (I am making progress in catching up please be patient with me)Prompt:On the run| Failed escape | Rescue
Series: Whumptober 2020 but bad [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951480
Kudos: 2





	Where do you think you're going?

Freedom burns hot and intoxicating in her lungs. Her wings were not made to fly so far, her legs not made to run so fast, her fingers not made to tear the leather from around her throat. Blood drips from her fingers where the collar bit into them. She lets the collar drop into the bushes and keeps running.

Her wings ache, but flying is quicker than walking. They can’t follow her in the air. She does not stop flying until the sun is setting in the sky and her wings burn with the fire of the energy they haven’t had to expend for a long time.

She stops to sleep, drink, and eat. She hasn’t had to forage for food in a long while, but she remembers what is safe and what isn’t. She sips water from a river that reflects the sunset like a current of fire, and she moves on once the sun rises over the horizon. She flies until she can fly no more, until her wings give out and she falls into the dirt somewhere far from home.

She is bruised, battered, tired. She lies in the undergrowth of a forest farther from home than anywhere she has ever been, and she smiles. She laughs, bittersweet and burning in her throat. Freedom is something that has grown foreign to her. Freedom is something she relishes.

Bruised and broken in the undergrowth, she closes her eyes. She does not expect to wake again, her body frail. She dreams of home, of her people, of a thousand voices raised in song. She dreams of light, and love, and hope.

She is a shadow of her former self, and is haunted by the things she has lived through. Despite it all, she smiles, and she sings. Her body aches, dull and pulsing. She is not really free, a thin trail of phantom chains will always tie her to home. But for now, she can ignore the tug at the other end. For now, she will fly, and sing, and live.


End file.
